ZChrom
by Kathleen the Of Fire
Summary: When a young girl is told she is "not normal", she is plunged into a world she never dreamed existed, leading a team of Canadian teenagers in a fight she cannot call her own. (Warning: Slash, More notes inside)
1. Author's Ramble Every good story has on...

Hello everyone... This story here is looking up to be one of my longest, to date. As a rule, I've been avoiding writing long stories with a passion, because I'm awful about starting something, stopping, and leaving it in an idiotic position for several years until I work up the energy to dredge out several more chapters... Then a few more, etc.  
  
Once again, I'd like to say that I haven't stopped any of my other fics. That doesn't count the completed ones, of course, but the rest of the WIPs are indeed being worked upon. Slowly... pitifully... but worked upon, none the less.  
  
At this time, I'd like to say that this isn't shaping up into one of my author-notey kind of stories, you know, the ones where my notes are nearly as long as my stories? ^-^; I figure, if anyone really reviews, then I'll acknowledge them, and that's just about it. The reason for this is I'm working on this story. I want to get as much done before my mind moves off to... other things. "Better" things.  
  
This is set in the X-Men universe, most close to the Movieverses portrayed by many of my favorite authors. If you're a die hard X-fan, then I'm sorry, but the main impressions I have are from works where other people can bend characters to their own wills. Things will be as true to the point as I can make them, but I've only seen the movie once, and read none of the comics, only a lot of the Iceman and Nightcrawler fanfiction. A lot-lot ^-^;  
  
As it stands, I do not own X-Men, or really, anything or anyone in this story. The characters are all real people (just not that cool ^-^;) and as such, they own themselves. Please ask before taking them, so I can let them know that they're a star of fanfiction!  
  
For the first several chapters of this story, there will only be faint refrences to the X-Men that Marvel has such fond possession over. The point of this story is to focus on my realitybased (read real people, different situations) characters. When the time comes, I will attempt to masterfully draw the real X-men into the plot without screwing up the relationships I'll be forming on my own. I'm only fourteen, so try not to expect a bestseller kinda job, eh?  
  
Later on, if anyone is interested, I will give out the relationship statuses on all the characters. For now, I will leave this undetermined, since hearing it before reading the story will spoil a fair bit of the plot. When I have all the main characters worked in, things might change.  
  
This brings me to an important section of this. If you've seen my favorites and such, you might have the impression I enjoy reading slash stories. I write slash stories. The relationships in this story will be slash, because of the fact that "Zchrom", a name for the mutant team of Canada, can be genetically explained in my own little world:  
  
For anyone interested, here it is:  
  
Mutations are genetically passed along genetically, often skipping several generations between strong "level alpha" appearances. Signs are hard to read in children, but when the 'mutant' reaches an age of maturity, their chromosones change. As you may know, females have a double X, while males have an X and a Y. Mutation replaces the "x" chromosones with one "Z" chromosone. Also, instead of just 2 chroms, a last is added, which changes depending on the mutant powers. "Twerking", as is a nickname for the ability to "screw with minds" would be classified as Kchrom, while telepathy is considered an Achrom. The Zchrom also has an interesting side effect, because children found to possess this gene are more often homosexual (read gay, homophobes) The stronger the mutant power is, the more likely the mutant in question will be a homosexual. This will all be explained more in depth as the story progresses.  
  
Dedications will once again take place: To Jasmine, because of her neverending support for my pokey writing times ^-^;, and Amanda, who talked me into admitting I like Eric and supports me completely, and Ziggy, because he's my cute little puppy dog ^_~  
  
  
If you're reading this far, you're (A) Jasmine ^-^ yay for you or (B) a great person and I love you. This story is dedicated to you for slogging through my ramblings!  
  
Please enjoy reading (& reviewing)  
  
ZChrom 


	2. Chapter the First

"Surely you've noticed that no matter what you do, people seem to like you, Miss Reynolds," the man said, and Kathleen took a step back, shaking her head.   
  
"Nonsense," she replied, keeping her voice sweet and level. "They only like me because I try to help them and am nice to them."  
  
"Surely though," the man added, his voice filled with icy knowledge, "you've thought that you would like people to like you, be nice to you?"  
  
Kathleen smiled at him, fighting off the fear stabbing at her stomach. "I guess you're right, I'm happier if people like being around me. There's nothing more than that though."  
  
"I see, Miss. Reynolds," the man said, and sighed. "Well, if there is nothing I can do to dissuade you, you're not dangerous yet. I will not press this matter."  
  
"Thanks," she murmured, genuinely relived, and looked up in shock as he handed her a small, neat business card.  
  
"I don't know if your powers will stay safe forever, Miss. Reynolds. Just in case, call me if you need any advice."  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, and he blended off into the crowd.  
  
  
  
Walking back into class, Kathleen strode quickly to her seat and, waiting until the class turned away, pounded her head on her desk several times. 'Why did I keep his card?' she thought angrily. 'I'll never need it, it's stupid. I don't believe in mutation...'  
  
"Kathleen?" a voice asked and she started, glancing up quickly. Several boys stood in front of her, looking slightly unnerved. She flicked her gaze from Eric to Raiford to Alexander and back before raising an eyebrow.  
  
"We're supposed to be discussing the story," Raiford said at last.  
  
"Sorry," she said guiltily. "Why don't you sit down?"  
  
She tried, valiantly indeed, to pay attention to the discussion. For a minute or two she could contribute well, then a finger would brush the stiff card the man had given her, and she was lost again.   
  
"What's going on with you?" Alexander snapped at last. Their teacher had decided to make the groups permanent minutes ago, and Kathleen had simply blinked and nodded, quite unlike her normal sighs of neutrality.  
  
"Huh?" she asked again, snapping back. Then once again, "Sorry. I guess I'm just tired or something." Guilty smile, paying attention, drifting off into her thoughts.   
  
The boys finally gave up on her, subtly redirecting their attention and questions to one another, and when the bell rang, she wandered alone, out to lunch.  
  
  
  
Eric, knowing that he really knew next to nothing about Kathleen, was content to let the girl sigh and be quiet and drift in and out of attention. He knew what it was like to feel slightly different, just the smallest feeling in the most slim part of his mind. Kathleen was starting to unnerve him now.   
  
For the first several days he could tell she was troubled, that wasn't good, but it was fine. Then she slowly begin to radiate a feeling of being lost, one that shone from her eyes and spilled out in every word. Soon, however, he felt lost every time he looked at her, felt self doubt plaguing him.   
  
He knew everyone felt it, because rooms went quiet when Kathleen entered. "I'm going to talk about it!" he announced, and then, as Kathleen started and Raiford raised an eyebrow, blushed. "Kathleen... You're scaring me," he continued bravely.  
  
"Gee, thanks. If I give you a twenty will you go the whole nine yards and hang me?" she quipped angrily, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring. "If I have problems, I will sulk them out myself, thank you very much."  
  
Eric glared, and Kathleen's eyes flashed brightly. A strange feeling overcame him, and he spoke without thinking. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."  
  
Kathleen's face drained of colour, and, leaving her books behind, she raced out of the room.  
  
"What did you do?" Alexander asked nervously.   
  
"I'll let you know when I figure it out myself.  
  
  
  
Kathleen clenched her fingers around the worn business card, squeezing her eyes shut angrily. "What's wrong with me," she muttered to herself, drawing in the pain that wavered around her.   
  
"You don't know?" a voice asked, and Eric, serious faced and quiet, settled down next to her. "I figured you always knew stuff."  
  
"Welcome to the real world," Kathleen sighed, biting her lip as she looked at the fist holding the card.  
  
"Wa'cha thinking about?" Eric asked at last, curiously following her gaze.  
  
"If I should be stupid and do something I know could change my life, or make everyone around me miserable by leaving well enough alone," she replied. Eric's fingers were cool as he opened her fingers and tugged the card out.  
  
"Professor Sewike?" he asked. "Well, lets call him."  
  
  
  
Professor Martin Sewike resisted the urge to gloat as a young voice drifted over the phone. Kathleen had snapped, and had even brought another powerful child into the issue. The two would be meeting him outside the school in ten minutes, and he could finally start building the Zchrom team.  
  
He stopped briefly, admiring the new paint on his car. The vehicle was his pride and joy, his competition for the planes the X-Men used. "Since I'm starting young," he announced aloud as he revved the engine, "my team will certainly surpass theirs!"  
  
Charles Xavier, his cousin, was a constant source of frustration. The fact that his cousin had bested him in everything, Cerebro, Mutant teams, mutant powers themselves, was like a knife in his side.   
  
He knew, from endless hours of research, that mutant powers were genetic, often skipping generations before resurfacing, but always constant. Canada's last several generations had surfaced a dry time for mutation, revealing only several Zchroms without much power or will to fight. This though, the children growing now, was a veritable stockpile of level A, frustratingly powerful, immensely dangerous proteges.  
  
If only they'd get over their teen pride.  
  
  
  
Kathleen was ^cold^. Shooting a glare at Eric, she tucked her fingers into her pockets, hunched her shoulders, and narrowed her eyes. "Did I mention that I hate winter?" she growled.  
  
Eric beamed back. "Several times, mon ami," he said innocently. "I think it's funny though. I mean, you, big, tough, freaky girl... hates snow."  
  
"I told you," she replied, looking as if she seriously considered strangling him. "I hate snow because it's cold and wet and gets in my shoes. I hate standing in snow because I'm cold, wet, and unwillingly being dragged into something I'm almost positive I don't want to do!"  
  
Eric grinned widely as the vehicle pulled up, opening the door for her and waiting until she stepped in before following.   
  
"Welcome, children," the voice from the phone announced, and he looked at the back of a blonde head and beamed. "I'm so pleased you decided to come, Miss. Reynolds. I shall take this time to mention the fact that, since you have contacted me you have, in essence, sold your soul to me."  
  
"I'm blaming you for all of this," Kathleen told Eric frankly, glaring. "If I'm killed, my parents will ^so^ sue you!"  
  
"I'm sure you will both be glad to learn that you are the first children bearing the Z chromosome, the chromosome of a higher mutation."  
  
Kathleen, cheeks scarlet from the cold, scowled. "Peachy... We're freaks? I kind of figured as much for me, but Eric's just himself." She drew in on herself more, missing how Eric's eyes flashed dangerously. The road seemed to stretch forever, and she dozed off, missing her companion's words.  
  
"If only you knew, Kathleen."  
  
  
  
The fact that he was sitting in the back of a shiny car next to a girl who had just succeeded in screwing up his whole class with a crazy man who talked about mutation didn't bother Eric at all. He was a class clown, and proud of it, but the title meant he had to take things in stride.   
  
Translate into "don't freak out because you don't know what's going on."  
  
The fact that Professor Sewike had a last name similar to Alexander's probably wasn't a coincidence, either, he thought. All the more for him to ponder, but there wasn't anything to fret about. That happened on its own.  
  
'Please, please don't let me fritz,' he thought nervously, clenching his hands tightly. 'Don't let me fritz, don't let me fritz, don't let me fritz...'  
  
"So, Mr. Wolfe-Gordon," the professor drawled lazily. "Would you care to explain to me what a 'fritz' is?"  
  
Everything from his toes to his hair froze, and he cowered like a cornered animal, instinctively curling up. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured quickly, wishing that he would fritz right then so he could be safe.  
  
"Mr. Wolfe-Gordon?"  
  
The professor's voice held a hint of panic, and he peeked down to his hands, sighing quietly when he could only see the neat leather seats. "I know that you can make yourself invisible, Mr. Wolfe-Gordon," the professor said frankly. "How long has this been going on?"  
  
Quivering in a faint rush, Eric slipped towards a door. He could get out and be safe, and the voices from the animals and the Fritzs and everything could just disappear.   
  
A hand, pale fingers tight in the tinted light, caught his wrist. "Don't go anywhere," Kathleen hissed and he blinked, surprised that she could see him. "I can feel your mind, please don't be afraid, Eric," she continued, green eyes wide at her revelation.   
  
  
"I'm sorry," he replied, just as softly, and willed himself to be visible again. "I can turn invisible," he added, almost certain she had always known. "I can talk to animals too... I didn't want to be a mutant, my parents won't be happy."  
  
"At least neither of us have tails," she giggled lightly, and released her painfully tight grasp. "We have it good, I guess."   
  
The woozy feeling, the one where he felt like he was doing something wrong was back, and he turned away. Her eyes widened in panic and she asked, "What's wrong... What did I do?"  
  
"We don't have any name for your particular talent, Miss. Reynolds," Professor Sewike cut in calmly. "I have next to no information on it, but I'm sure we can struggle through several simple tests." He grinned widely in the mirror, and handed back a pair of dark shades. "For the time, let us see if these will shelter your power. The inside of them is coated with a material not unlike the substance of Cyclops' visors, and the outside is simple sunglasses."  
  
Kathleen crossed her eyes before sliding them up her nose, sighing. "I had just got rid of my glasses, too," she grumbled, before facing him. "How do I look?"  
  
"Marvelous."  
  
  
  
If there was one thing she had to say for Professor Sewike's base, it was big. The walls were all, she knew, fireproof, waterproof, and completely sterile, while the hallways blended together in a complex maze, the last defense.  
  
Peering carefully around from behind her defensive glasses, she tried to take in everything. Eric bounced beside her, the professor strolled ahead, and, for all the rooms and smaller hallways, the building was completely empty.  
  
As if he sensed her thought, the professor laughed. "I wasn't kidding when I said you two were the first of the Zchrom team," he chuckled. "We should gradually get new members, and before long I'll be wondering why I didn't build this thing bigger."  
  
Raising her eyebrows, Kathleen considered the numbers needed. "I'll take your word for it," she said at last. "You know of more people who can be... Zed-whatevers?"  
  
"That's Zchroms," the professor snapped irritably. "Zee-chroms."  
  
"Oh... You're American?" Eric asked enthusiastically. "Everyone knows Canadians say Zed." He flashed a large, radiant smile and began to sing in a high, childish voice. "Aye, bee, see, dee, ee, ef, gee! Aich, eye, jay, kay, ell, em, en, oh, pee! Kyew, are ess, tee yew, vee! Double-yew, ex, why, and ZED! Now I know my aye-bee-sees, next time you should sing with me!"  
  
Kathleen rubbed her temples, sighing, "You have just proved to me, Eric, that you are the most responsible kinder gardener on the face of the planet."  
  
Oblivious to their conversation, the professor began to speak confidently. "I have chosen you for two reasons: One, you are potentially very dangerous and have already lost control of your powers several times and two, you're both mature and responsible." Smiling, he glanced back in time to see Eric gracefully poke Kathleen and leap back, giggling, when she slapped at his hand.  
  
"I have a lot of work to do," he announced.  
  
  
  
The fact that she hadn't been eating well rested heavily on Kathleen as she looked at the training suit Professor Sewike had left for her. Thinking logically, she had realized that using her power had drained her physically, and not eating had taken her last reserves. She was officially skin and bones.  
  
"Professor, maybe I should just wear... I dunno, a t-shirt?" she whined loudly, knowing he could hear her. Knowing that if she walked out there in the tight training outfit, her ribs would show, her skin would reveal itself painfully pale and loose, and she would lose their respect.  
  
"Now, Miss. Reynolds," he commanded. "I was under the impression that you could change quickly?"  
  
She winced angrily, sliding into the suit and zipping it up neatly before twisting her hair back and peering out. "Don't look," she said nervously before pushing the glasses up. "I'm embarrassed."  
  
Eric giggled again, a soft, quiet sound, and she stepped out. "You look... like a stick," he announced frankly, scrunching his nose. "I didn't know you could be that skinny, it just isn't natural."  
  
"Another self confidence booster, thank you," she retorted, bowing abruptly. "Shall we?" Then punched, hard.  
  
Eric stumbled backwards at this, scrambling away. "What the Hell was that for?" he asked before he thought about it.  
  
"Training... fighting," she drawled lazily. "Generally, you try to hit things when you fight, Eric." She lashed again as he winced, and he was soon returning the blows to her too thin, too weak form.  
  
  
  
Ryan glanced to the table where Kathleen should have been, feeling almost empty without the frightening sense of oddness. When she had run out, his head had felt the confusion, and then everything had settled. It was strange, to feel emotions he didn't think were his, but he could accept it.  
  
Ben passed him a piece of paper, and the edge drew sharply along his fingertip. He hissed in pain as a thin line of blood welled up, and, before anyone noticed, he wiped it away. The line of injury was gone as quickly as the blood, and he repressed a gasp of relief.  
  
If it hadn't worked that time, then he would have been worried. One thing he didn't think about, didn't ask anyone about, didn't acknowledge, was that. The fact that, no badly he managed to get hurt, it would repair quickly, even instantly. That was a safe feeling, and he could keep it to himself.  
  
'Everyone's doing it,' he though, smirking at the irony, and, shooting his healed fingertip a final, frustrated glance, turned back to his work.  
  
  
  
"I like to call these missions 'search and retrieve'," Professor Sewike announced, handing Kathleen a small metal device and Eric a rope. "The point is to go out, find a mutant, and bring them back. End of story, clear?"  
  
Kathleen shook her head, sliding the device into a pocket. "I promised I'd head to my brother's game," she replied. "I'll do this searching thing tomorrow, okay?"  
  
The professor's glare was enough of an answer, but she shrugged it off confidently. "A promise is a promise," Eric agreed. "We can look around there... Who knows!"  
  
"Right," Professor Sewike's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I suppose you'll just look, and see someone... I don't know, melt a hole in the ice, or freeze a person's stick to the puck or something!"  
  
  
  
Kathleen gaped as Clayton reached out, fingers twitching slightly as the puck stuck to his stick. He tilted his head, confused, lifted his stick over his head, and shook it several times, but the puck stayed fastened tightly.   
  
"I didn't think the Professor was ^serious^," Eric gasped in disbelief. "I was getting so good at reading sarcasm too!"  
  
She glanced at him, giggling, and twitched her face straight. "Will you provide a distraction so I can steal Ian and Clayton?" she asked innocently.  
  
"Most certainly."  
  
She trusted him instinctively and, pushing her glasses down and briefly wishing that she couldn't be seen, that they had no idea she was there, jumped the glass and skidded out to her younger brother and his teammate.  
  
"Hey, Ian, I have something to ask you," she announced as she righted herself carefully. "Do you trust me?"  
  
  
  
Clayton, still numbly clutching his frozen stick, wasn't that good of company, Ian realized. Kathleen, napping on his other side, certainly wasn't optimal either, and her friend, the boy... They didn't even know each other!  
  
He glared out the window sullenly, wondering where they were going. The icy road stretched out for miles on either side, and the large, beautiful sports car didn't impress him just now. Instead, he felt a pounding headache coming on, accompanied by a deep sense of foreboding.   
  
"Hey?" the boy, brown eyes glowing slightly. "Is there supposed to be things on the road around here?"  
  
The man focused on the people standing in front of them and swore fluently. "What the hell do they think they're doing?" he barked at last. "They know they're not allowed to attack until I have a fully assembled, capable team!"  
  
Kathleen woke with a start, stretching slowly as the professor braked the car abruptly. "Wa'za'matter?" she yawned as he popped the doors open.   
  
"Do you remember the drill I worked on with you yesterday?" he asked innocently.  
  
"Yeah... So?"  
  
"Good luck," he announced, and tossed her a sword.  
  
  
  
Clayton was dragged free from the car before he could register the lack of the motor's noise, and he stood silently at the side of the road, shivering slightly. The redheaded girl sprang forward gracefully, and he tensed himself, grabbing his hockey stick to his chest tightly.   
  
"Clayton... Please... Let it go," a voice murmured, and warm fingertips covered his, loosening his grasp on the frozen stick. "Let me take it," the voice continued, and he looked into the green eyes of his teammate, Ian.  
  
A feeling frothed gently through his mind, and he released the stick without a word. Ian beamed at him, then turned back to the fight, tensed as the redhead blocked a strange attack dazedly. "She'll be okay," he announced. "She's your sister, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Ian replied happily. "And the other guy is ... Eric, I think. I don't know him."  
  
"Mmm," he agreed peaceably, resting his head on the other boy's shoulder.   
  
"We should probably help," Ian muttered at last, watching as the strange people ganged up on the two teenagers. He ignored the nagging voice that said that he couldn't do anything. Glad at last for well trained muscles, he jogged up towards the fighting. A pale, slender woman with strange eyes glared towards him, and he felt a stab of fear. "Come on," he added to Clayton, making sure that his voice didn't shake.  
  
The woman's eyes, already a strange, feral violet, turned a shocking blue, and he felt his mind scream in agony. "No!" someone else shrieked, and he watched as Kathleen stepped in front of him. Clayton's cold arms were around him and he listened to his sister speak. "Don't you dare hurt my baby brother."  
  
"Well, then," the woman's mocking voice announced. "Whatever shall I do?"   
  
Kathleen was screaming, agonized, drawn out howls. He reached out to her, tears leaking out of his eyes, but the world spun into blackness before he could feel the material of her coat.  
  
  
  
Eric paced quickly, shooting worried glances at the prone redheads on the medical tables. The small boy who had iced his hockey stick quivered alone in a corner. "What's wrong with them?" the boy asked nervously.   
  
"The telepath attempted to destroy Mr. Reynolds' mind before his sister intervened," Professor Sewike announced simply. "I assume that the woman had no care as to who was injured, since she turned her onslaught on Miss. Reynolds as soon as her clear path was blocked."  
  
"So do something!" Eric snapped fiercely.   
  
"I cannot," the professor continued. "The telepath only manipulated Mr. Reynolds' mind, so he should wake soon, but Miss. Reynolds on the other hand... Her mind is destroyed, literally. The cells are dead, and nothing short of a miracle will save her."  
  
Tbc 


	3. Chapter the Second

Okay, this isn't an author notey kind of story, but I had to give a bit of explanation. New chapter, and Jasmine, you had mentioned that Eric had two powers... This will come in later, you'll see, but I don't think he'll be using them that much. Inspiration for the last two sections of this came from "Minority Report", which is actually one of the best movies I've seen, ranking right up there with American Psycho II and Lord of the Rings. I suggest you go and watch it ^_^  
  
Without further ado,  
  
  
  
Ryan stared as Eric was pushed into the classroom, his bag shoved after him. "And learn something," a voice announced angrily, slamming the door as the small brunette turned around.  
  
"Eric, so nice of you to join us," Mrs. Reierson proclaimed calmly, smiling as the boy, who had been absent for several weeks, turned around. "I don't suppose you know where Kathleen is?"  
  
Eric looked pained, and Ryan nearly shouted out as a blast of pain blasted against his senses. "She probably won't be coming back," he said softly. "There was an accident... She's in a coma, but over seventy-five percent of her brain is dead." Ryan took the time to study his classmate's expression. Eric's face was twisted into a harsh, lightless acceptance. He had been told this fact many times, or he probably wouldn't have believed it. Ryan's thoughts drew to his own power. For a minute, he found himself wondering if he could save the girl who he had known almost all of his life.  
  
'I can see it now,' he thought, chuckling at the irony. 'I'll just walk in, cape billowing, and announce I'm a freak and I can save a girl who is nearly completely brain dead.'  
  
'It would be worth it,' a rivaling voice taunted. 'You could make something of yourself, save a life. Wouldn't that be great? A hero...' Deep in thought, he watched as Eric sat. 'It would be worth it.'  
Eric slipped into his coat, straight faced. 'Nothing short of a miracle,' he reminded himself as he glanced at the one small picture on his locker door. A sentimental keepsake, Kathleen punching him into a wall. His lips quirked into a small smile at the memory.  
  
"Eric?" a soft voice asked, and he turned to face Ryan. "I... I wanted to know if I could help," the taller boy added.  
  
"Nothing short of a miracle, thanks," he replied frankly.  
  
"Well," the blonde boy drawled, pulling out his phrase. "I have this thing that I can do... It works, sometimes, and-" Ryan was pushed sharply up onto the lockers, cutting of his sentence as he gaped at Eric. "You're strong," he added belatedly.   
  
"What exactly can you do?"  
  
  
  
Ryan smiled hesitantly at the tall, foreboding man. The professor looked the blonde boy up and down, scanning quietly to see if the boy had what he said that he did... A healing power that just might bring back his first discovery. The boy's thoughts, he realized, were all of Kathleen at the time. He dug deeper, watching as Ryan healed his own cuts, mended bruises, coaxed bones into position. "You'll do, follow me," he commanded at last. The boy, face straight, obediently trailed him through the halls to the medical lab. Eric had resumed that infernal pacing, stalking back and forth, and Clayton was still in the corner like an injured puppy.  
  
"I'll... I'll do what I can, okay?" Ryan's voice shook as he walked up to Kathleen, taking in her thin, pale form. "I'll do this," he added firmly." He flexed the fingers of a hand, grasping her thin wrist and concentrating. Not a moment had passed before he jumped backwards, wincing. "She won't let me in."  
  
Ryan's head spun and he choked on the pain Kathleen had forcefully slipped into him. He had read about that, about how victims would shut themselves up and shy away from physical contact, but he hadn't wanted to believe it personally. "I won't be able to do anything," he added into the silence of the room. "If I get close to her mind, she'll push all her pain and fear onto me... I think it could kill me."  
  
Eric's face was grim as he spoke. "Let me help. You can... I don't know... Manipulate her so she pushes all that stuff into me, and then I could... I don't know... Hold it all for you and you could... I guess... Maybe... Fix her then?"  
  
"That was a lot of 'don't knows' and 'maybe's for a good solution," Ryan announced happily, and both boys moved forward to grasp the prone redhead's hands.  
  
"And here I was truly believing you were an airhead," the professor laughed as Ryan felt himself sliding his powers into Kathleen. She surged and pushed, around him, and he felt a stab of nerves as her hurt pushed into Eric. He forced himself to concentrate, to mend what was broken, and lost himself in his task.  
  
  
  
Clayton watched as Eric cried, a low keening of horror, and Ryan gritted himself to his task. For once, the young goalie felt truly useless. Nothing could be done to help Kathleen, nothing that a strange child who froze hockey pucks to his stick could manage anyhow. He had failed Ian already, it would be better to leave well enough alone.   
  
The professor was glaring at him, and he wasn't quite sure why. He rose and walked to Ian's side, brushing back a tuft of hair from the shorter boy's face, and smiled hesitantly. 'You're going to be fine,' he thought to the other boy, gripping a hand. 'Your sister will too... I'm sure those other kids can help her. I can't do anything though.'  
  
'Of course you can,' a weak, strange voice sounded in his mind. 'You're helping me right now.' Clayton's eyes widened as he glanced around. 'Don't worry, I'm just too tired to wake up right now,' the voice continued, and he realized that it must be Ian.  
  
'We're talking telepathically,' he announced, more for himself than anything else.  
  
'I know, Clayton,' Ian answered. 'Thank you.' The unconscious' boy's lips quirked into a small smile, and Clayton answered with a grin.  
  
'Maybe I can do something more than freeze pucks to sticks?' he asked jokingly.   
  
'Sure. You're my official SWAT ice maker. Hurray for you.'  
  
  
  
Kathleen was dazed and lost. Something pressed tight against her mind, tickling her senses before fluttering away. She had watched as the woman's powers reached for her, had been overpowered by the force of the attack, and she should be dead. 'I'm not,' she thought, almost laughing. 'I'll be fine... Damn fine, back to saving the world and all that shit. But it hurts...'  
  
'Calm down, an answering voice rumbled, gentle as a friend's hand. 'You're going to be fine, Kathleen. I'm doing my best, and I'm sorry for leaving you all this time.'  
  
She was sorely tempted to blot out the voice and be alone, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. The voice talked sweetly of things that were good, things that she could relate to. The voice mentioned the person she had once been, before she hid herself behind a mask, and it talked about old times with a subtle certainty. It healed her, even as she felt herself coming to life. 'I could have died,' she thought, right in the middle of a phrase. The voice paused slowly, and continued, and healed.  
  
Somewhere deep inside of herself, she knew the voice so well that it hurt as much as it healed. It made her want to remember what it had been like to be a normal, good kid, and have fun by playing games with no reason other than the sake of playing. It made her confused. It made her wake.  
  
  
  
Clayton looked up in surprise as Eric lurched back slowly, gasping for breath. The older boy, nearly as short as him, swayed slowly, clutching his arms and pulling as though he wanted to be free of his skin. 'Dirty,' Clayton thought, feeling ashamed of himself. 'He feels dirty.' Without thinking, he walked up to the boy, wrapping his arms around his companions and hugging as hard as he could. 'Small things help,' he added mentally.  
  
Eric's eyes were filled with tears as he hugged back instinctually. "I'm sorry," he murmured at last. "I just... She felt all of that and she would have done it for any of us and it was my fault!"   
  
He didn't look at all steady, and his eyes flashed with pain as he struggled to stay upright. "Rest, please," Clayton choked out at last. "I know, rest." He watched calmly as Eric's eyes fluttered shut, heaving them both to the floor as the elder fell into a boneless faint. "Rest," Clayton repeated numbly as he untangled his arms and stood slowly. The blonde healer managed a weak smile as he staggered to a chair, slumping down and resting his head in his hands.   
  
"I think I'm going to rest now," he announced frankly. "As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to faint." His eyes rolled up slightly as he dropped to one side, and Clayton turned to Kathleen, taking in her still form.   
  
"I'll be okay," she gasped slowly, half opening her eyes. "Umm... It's strange," she continued into the silence. He felt afraid to speak, worrying that she would break from the noise of his voice. "I never really considered that I'd be going along just fine, and then I'd be put in a coma by a psychic, and then I'd be healed by a classmate who I thought was perfectly normal," she rambled, her voice still weak and breathy. "But all in all, it's pretty cool because I really do enjoy hanging out with you guys, even if there is something weird going on, you know?"  
  
He opened his mouth slowly, pausing before adding, "It'll be fun, I guess." Anxiously, he looked up and found her still whole, shaking slowly with giggles. "What?" he asked, scrunching his brow.  
  
"Nothing," she chortled happily. "I'm just hoping nothing bad happens... again. I mean, with my luck, this whole place will start dissolving into peppers or something." Her eyes fluttered shut, and she forced them open quickly. "I'm really tired now, so I'll just take a brief nap, sorry," she murmured politely, forcing a smile and yawning. Her breathing slowed gently, and she fell asleep.  
  
  
  
Keeping his mental activity low, the blonde shut his eyes and tried to probe subtly. He had been feeling strange powers at work for several days, even the presence of another, stronger telepath for a while. Smiling secretively to himself, he shifted the stack of papers on his desk. His uncle kept the strangest collections, all about interesting powers, especially telepathy. As a child, he had loved studying them, and had done so with a passion. When his powers had slowly surfaced, he had removed the most important from the large library, taken them to teach himself control.  
  
Most people who knew him wouldn't expect such a display. He had allowed himself to be classified as a skater, dabbled in band, and absorbed his friend, Ryan,'s nature of good will and intelligence. It wasn't his fault that his shields still broke under pressure, allowing him to have an easier time on tests, because he would have learned it himself sooner or later. He would just repeat this over and over, and he could believe it.  
  
He allowed his thoughts to filter back to Ryan, one of the best friends he had ever had. At times, the thoughts drifting to him from the taller blonde were confusing, things that shouldn't work in real life, like healing. Ryan had been missing from school today, as had Kathleen, once again, and Eric. He considered probing for them, as he often did, briefly, and dismissed the thought without a second thought. It was an invasion of privacy, something that he wouldn't want to take from the ones who, somehow, meant so much to him.  
  
He was aware that in today's society his friendship, from the thoughts in his head, might be considered unhealthy. It was okay to dislike other boys, it was okay to be friends with other boys, but to love other boys? Not so good. To add to it, his imagination enjoyed taunting him, making it seem as though his thoughts just might have filtered from Ryan, and maybe the thoughts were two ways. There was no chance.  
  
He skimmed the notes once more, wondering what ability had surface in his class several weeks ago. He knew there had to be something, because emotions didn't just broadcast themselves, but few people had the strength to impress things like that on others, leave alone whole groups. The more he thought about it, the more illogical it seemed that any known power had that much skill, but who could possibly manipulate a new ability?  
  
The whisper in his head, one that had pulsed for several years now, told him that perhaps Kathleen would, or he could ask his uncle. His uncle was another thing, if the notes hadn't all implied that there was a generation gap between mutation powers. His uncle, he had thought as a child, could read minds, but now he was sure that couldn't be true. He could, and only he. A secret that could destroy him.  
  
  
  
Evil, Raiford pondered calmly, was a good thing. He had studied hard to create an image he could conform to, and knew when he hit his limits. Even the X-Men movie, as simple and unrealistic as it had been, was a good example. Mystique was an excellent role model for the wanna-be shapeshifter. A poor person, foolish, but she had given him adaption hints. A human form was easy to work with, and a simple front was easier.  
  
He had figured out the mutations as they had shown in his classmates. Obvious to him, really. Eric's overbearing personality could only hide a quiet invisible man, and Ryan's care in protecting himself meant he was unafraid to be hurt. He scoffed at the natures of his peers, so backwards that they were simple, and had even considered adopting them to his cause. He had gone to great pains to discover what they had thought of him, shifting his image to that of someone trusted, learning things he hadn't wanted to know. They hated him, and in doing so, they fueled his hate for them.  
  
Kathleen, even she, was frustrated by his outer shell, but she made no effort to probe past. Kathleen might have made an ally if not for her own thickheadedness. Kathleen was a winged one, created after angels themselves, he thought, and he'd be damned if he ignored this. She could hide all she wanted, and she could act like she was meant to be good, and she could even hate him, but she couldn't continue ignoring the fact.  
  
His mutants, especially his telepathic destroyer, had been sent in hopes that they could prod her into realizing the truth by hurting her brother, because he knew how much she valued her brother, but they had failed. Kathleen had taken the brunt for him, and destroyed herself, and destroyed his plans. Raiford clenched a fist at the thought, angered at her foolishness. She had no right to ruin his plans. Now he would need new ones, and had no reason to keep people like Eric, his so called friend, alive. It was a matter of time.  
  
He stepped away, wandering to a window and smiling harshly at his machine. It was a strange plan, the machine was completely useless but for one thing. The hero complex, as he called it, would have his ... friends... go for that machine, to destroy it and save mankind. They would not expect he, normal Raiford, to be the one to destroy them. They could not see the clogging blackness in his heart. They had no way of realizing that his minions were the ones who, in essence, killed their angel of hope. Kathleen was now good as dead, his hopes were dashed. His plan was formed, he would pull from the dust and have a victory. All in all, the world was good.  
  
  
  
"You mean... You told... Whaaaaaaaat?" Eric whined pitifully, glaring at the taller redhead as she pulled her face straight, hastily shutting the computer file.   
  
"Nothing," she replied quickly. "I mean, why would I do anything? Look at my face," she added, pasting on a small, innocent smile. "How can anything bad come from this face?" Ryan chuckled half heartedly, sitting on the desk and sighing. "I trust Jasmine with my timbits," she added naively. "She's great, and she's on our side."  
  
"So... You told someone you've never quite met?" Ryan asked mournfully, sighing to himself.  
  
"Oh, all is good," Kathleen chirped absentmindedly. "Jasmine is trustworthy, and she says she has powers too. She can turn into a panther!"  
  
"You believe this of an internet friend," Eric sighed. "You're logic is messed up, but people don't lie to you... So I guess we'll trust her. On to better things," he continued quickly, smiling at her frustration.  
  
"Some day I'll meet her, you see," she announced grouchily. "She's really fun. She'd make a great member."  
  
"We'll talk about it later," Ryan agreed. "Now... what better things were you speaking of, Eric?"  
  
"Why can't we talk about her! It's like you don't trust me! Is this some sort of scheme? I mean, really! Jasmine could make or break the team, and what do you say? 'On to better things', you say!" Kathleen snapped, storming out angrily. Both boys blinked, looking at each other.  
  
"Do you know what just happened?" Ryan asked, and Eric shook his head. Both sighed, and stood still.  
  
"Well," Eric said after a moment of silence. "That band trip is coming up, after all. It should be pretty fun, but we shouldn't room together because it would be suspicious..."  
  
  
  
"No, you don't see," David replied quietly. "I've killed you. Ever time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Ever time I blink, your blood is on my hands. You don't see, you don't understand, you never will!"  
  
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. "I'm alive," he reminded the boy, trying to meet the other's eyes. "I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down."   
  
"I've killed you," David repeated flatly. "You're dead, soon. Soon you'll realize you're dead. I've killed you, you see. Your blood has dripped through my fingertips, it's fallen to the ground, it's stained me forever. You're dead, Eric. I've killed you, and you'll stay dead. Stay dead!" His voice broke and he leaned forward, crying. "I've killed you, killed you," he repeated harshly. "Dead, always dead, never alive."  
  
Eric felt himself shake as he brought the hand to his heart, pressing it to his chest. "Feel my heart?" he asked quietly. "It's beating, David. It's beating because you haven't killed me, there's no reason to. I'm alive, so are you. We're fine."  
  
David ignored the voice, shaking his head back and forth. "Kathleen can tell you," he yelled. "Kathleen saw you die. Kathleen asked me why! Kathleen said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Every time it gets quiet, I hear her say that. 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Why? I don't know, I just know that you're dead, Eric. I've killed you and you're dead."  
  
Eric turned to the phone, never releasing David's wrist. "Calm down," he murmured as he punched in the numbers, listened to it ring, heard no one pick up.  
  
"It's a nightmare, you know!" David's voice dropped to a secretive whisper. "We're not really grade nines, innocent grade nines. We're pawns, you know. I don't know why I killed you, but we're pawns. And she won't pick up, never, ever, ever pick up. She won't ever pick up, you know, because she's dead too. I didn't want to kill her, and she looked at me, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know. I just killed her, so she'd stop talking. So she'd stop asking the questions! She's stayed dead, you know. She'll never come back because I've killed her and I don't know why."  
  
"I don't know either, David, but she's not dead," Eric announced, trying to keep himself calm. She should have picked up, he was sure. He really didn't need anything to help convince David that she had died.  
  
"Oh, and I can show you that she's dead," David laughed, almost gleefully. "I can show you that she's dead, because I kept her here with me, always continued. "I killed her, but her blood didn't touch me, it touched you, because she wanted to help you."  
  
"What?" Eric asked, reaching for the cold, stiff hand of the girl.  
  
"She said to me, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?', but she didn't stop there, oh no. She said, 'You loved him David,' and I suppose that's true, because I did love you, before I killed you and you were dead. She said, 'He could never love me, and he loved Danna. He loved you too, David, and he wanted to help you.' That's what she said, but I wanted her to stop. I was going to kill her, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know."  
  
"David, tell me why you killed her. Why you say that you killed me," Eric asked nervously, feeling the one wide wrist he still held.  
  
"I killed her! I don't know why!" David sobbed, laughing even as the tears poured down his cheeks. "You asked too! You want me to tell her why I killed you?" He turned to the body, laughing and crying. "I killed you! I killed you and I killed Ryan and I killed the whole damn world!" he bellowed to the corpse. "I killed everyone but me! I killed your parents, I killed Alexander, I even killed Claire, and I killed Raiford! I killed everyone! Do you know why I did it? I don't know why I did it! Do you know, I don't know!"  
  
Eric tensed, releasing the wrist, now red from lack of circulation, and pulled the boy into a tighter hug. "Don't kill any more," he commanded, but something felt strange in his stomach. "Why did you do it?" he asked, and looked at the knife that released the blood down his stomach.  
  
"I don't know why I did it," David replied even as he stepped away, and Kathleen was running through the door, even as she was laying dead on the bed.   
  
"You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?" she asked, supporting his head.   
  
"I'm not dead," Eric tried to gasp, but not a word came out. He was cold and stiff.  
  
"You love him, David," she continued, tears pouring down his cheeks. "He never loved me, but he loved Danna. He loved you too, and he wanted to help you." She bit her lip and Eric felt the tears that cascaded down to land on him, even as he couldn't move. David walked closer, and she spoke again. "Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?" She never spoke again, never gasped, and the room was silent as she tumbled forward onto him.  
  
"No, you don't see," David replied quietly. "I've killed you. Every time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Every time I blink, your blood is on my hands. "You don't see, you don't understand, you never will."  
  
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. "I'm alive," he reminded the boy, trying to meet the others eyes. "I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down."   
  
"I've killed you," David repeated flatly. "You're dead, soon. Soon you'll realize you're dead. I've killed you, you see. Your blood has dripped through my fingertips, it's fallen to the ground, it's stained me forever. You're dead, Eric. I've killed you, and you'll stay dead. Stay dead!" His voice broke and he leaned forward, crying. "I've killed you, killed you," he repeated harshly. "Dead, always dead, never alive."  
  
Eric felt himself shake as he brought the hand to his heart, pressing it to his chest. "Feel my heart?" he asked quietly. "It's beating, David. It's beating because you haven't killed me, there's no reason to. I'm alive, so are you. We're fine."  
  
David ignored the voice, shaking his head back and forth. "Kathleen can tell you," he yelled. "Kathleen saw you die. Kathleen asked me why! Kathleen said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Every time it gets quiet, I hear her say that. 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Why? I don't know, I just know that you're dead, Eric. I've killed you and you're dead."  
  
Eric turned to the phone, never releasing David's wrist. "Calm down," he murmured as he punched in the numbers, listened to it ring, heard no one pick up.  
  
"It's a nightmare, you know!" David's voice dropped to a secretive whisper. "We're not really grade nines, innocent grade nines. We're pawns, you know. I don't know why I killed you, but we're pawns. And she won't pick up, never, ever, ever pick up. She won't ever pick up, you know, because she's dead too. I didn't want to kill her, and she looked at me, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know. I just killed her, so she'd stop-"  
  
  
  
Kathleen sat up, gasping and sobbing as her head dropped to her knees. She shook violently, taking in deep breaths as she tried to calm down. She looked around and her fingertips went up to her neck, feeling for her pulse. A hysterical laugh escaped from her at her foolishness, but she could do nothing to stop it. "The dream, it must have been a dream, but it was so real, so real," she choked to the silence of her room.  
  
"Kathleen?" a voice asked from the doorway, a head, it must be Ryan, framed in a soft light. "Are you all right?" he continued, but she focused on remembering to breath, remembering to stop crying, and she felt his arms wrap around her, enclosing her in a deep, soft hug. "Don't cry, it wasn't real," he muttered into her hair and she laughed again, harsh and choked, at herself.  
  
"You're boney," she coughed into his t-shirt, rubbing the tears off of her cheeks. "I just... This awful dream."  
  
"Yeah, we figured from your screams," he sighed. "You said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?', over and over. We were worried, but we couldn't wake you up."  
  
"It was just an awful dream," she said, but her voice lacked reassurance. "I'll be fine soon, it's just nerves. The band trip tomorrow and all." Ryan nodded although it was clear he was doubtful, and smiled slightly.   
  
"Will you be okay getting back to sleep?" he asked thoughtfully, pushing her back onto her pillows.   
  
"I'll watch some t.v. then try again," she replied, reaching for a clicker and watching him pad out. She smiled slightly as he glanced back, waited until the door closed, and reached for a piece of paper.  
  
"No, you don't see,' David replied quietly. 'I've killed you. Ever time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Ever time I blink, your blood is on my hands. You don't see, you don't understand, you never will!'  
  
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. 'I'm alive,' he reminded the boy, trying to meet the other's eyes. 'I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down.'" she wrote, pausing before she continued...  
  
  
  
Tbc 


End file.
